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Each man is a new jolt of heroine
that I sink into the yellow and brown
eyes sprouting on my arms,
no shot is nearly enough
to choke out all the spores
spreading like a rash
after popping out of
"They must be blind to not notice such a beautiful woman,"
slipped out of boxes of condoms
stretched over condemnation,
no syringe is nearly enough
to close these lids
with the reruns of faces
buzzing, rattling
in their wide screens.
YOU ARE READING
Paint Us Gray: Part 2
Poetry(This is part 2; please read part 1 first!) Rejection. Betrayal. Heartbreak. Grief. Unfortunately, we've all had a swallow, some more than others, of this bitter brew. This is just a sliver of my chapter that is a part of this world's grand nar...
